


Robbers

by Deadly_Sirius



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, AU where mickey stays connected to ian while in mexico, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Gunshot Wounds, Homophobia, Inspired By The 1975, M/M, Mandy's still gone, No Smut, One Shot, Picnics, Robbers by The 1975, Short One Shot, and comes back to chicago when the cops stop looking for him, the 1975
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-09 22:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16458593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadly_Sirius/pseuds/Deadly_Sirius
Summary: Mickey crosses the border into Mexico without Ian, but the two remained connected, sharing phone calls when they can. Ian visited when he could, as he had a valid passport and could go on vacation from his normal, stable job. Eventually, the cops give up the search for Mickey Milkovich, and the fucker makes his way discreetly back to Chicago. The following is what happens when Ian's and Mickey's picnic gets disrupted by Terry being prematurely released from prison due to overpopulation.





	Robbers

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song "Robbers" by The 1975. See if you can spot the lyrics (they aren't that hidden).

Mickey Milkovich has been in the business of illegal activities for longer than he could count on one hand. No really, before he learned to count he learned the quickest form of intimidation (overwhelming the victim. Unpredictability, acting as if you're insane and have nothing to lose, waving around a gun, yelling loudly, other forms of overstimulation,) and the first rule to anything that involves living witnesses--and this was the one decent piece of advice Terry had ever given--always get out of there before the cops show up. They fuck up all of your plans. It's much harder when the police come.

So, understandably, a boy raised to fear authority and control from not just the government but also his very own father, flees the second bullets fly from Terry's pistol. He barely sees the flurry of red jump up behind him before the two sprint away from a raving lunatic with surprisingly shit aim under the interstate's bypass. It's probably all the time he was locked up in Cook County Correctional making him rusty. Hundreds of cars speed by without a clue in the world about what the noise is. Probably gang violence in the dirty Southside of Chicago. Another two shots sound from the same weapon and Ian gets worried when Mickey stumbles forward a little, but he keeps running and Ian follows his lead. Neither have time to half-ass it; this was exactly where Ian's ROTC training comes in handy. The two of them live in the area of Chicago that if you Wiki or Yelp it, is exactly where everyone tells tourists  _not_ to go, something Mickey never understood.

Yeah, there are drugs. And addicts. And homeless people. And homeless drug dealers and homeless addicts, but it isn't  _dangerous_. Sure, there are plenty of guns in the area, especially the one shooting at him right now, but it's a lovely area. Take the cute little diner Fiona runs. Or the interstate bypass that Mickey and Ian were picnic-ing under thirty seconds ago. The grass had grown and wildflowers even started to pop up around the discarded heroin needles. The bypass hid them from prying eyes and it shaded them from the fucking scorching sun on a day in the beginning of August at two in the afternoon. They dragged one of Mandy's old blankets out of her room and under the bridge, and drank cool beers from the fridge conveniently placed inside the house approximately one hundred yards away. That was the benefit of having a highway right outside the backyard's fence.

They are being chased by an insane homophobe wielding a gun who they thought was still in prison, but Ian and Mickey can find plenty of beautiful spots in the "dangerous" Southside. Granted, that's as long as you didn't consider heroin needles dangerous.

Terry continues to yell disgusting accusations and slurs behind them, and the two teenagers sprint down another four blocks before they start to lose the man. Another two bocks and they vault into the elementary school's playground. They were going to continue running past their old school, but Mickey made a curt nod through his heavy breaths at the swings and the duo stopped.

Ian's about to make a joke about how Mickey's such an old man when he clutches his stomach, even though it really is only three years, until Ian sees his brow furrow and his hand stain red when he pulls it away from his body.

"Holy shit, did he fuckin' hit you?"

"Good ol' Pops wouldn't be home if somebody wasn't shot in the side," Mickey curses. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth as his back slides down the brick wall of the school building. Ian nudges his legs over and carefully peels his arm away from his side.

"Let me take a look at it."

"No, I'm fine-"

Isn cups his face, accidentally getting blood on his jaw. "I'm a fuckin' EMT, okay? This is my job. Just let me take a look."

Mickey doesn't respond, only huffs in annoyance. When Ian doesn't move, he shoots him a pissed off expression with his eyebrows high, saying  _well get the fuck on with it then!_ Ian carefully helps Mickey take his t-shirt off without stretching the skin on his abdomen too much, as he doesn't have any equipment or clothing shears. A few pokes and prods later and Ian sits back, frowning.

"You'll be fine. It'll scar something nasty, but it's not deep enough for stitches. Bullet only scraped you; didn't hit anything important."

Mickey scowls at him and groans as he reaches for his shirt. "What would I do without you, Glorified Taxi Driver? I fuckin' told you that before you stripped me," he scoffs.

"Maybe I just wanted to strip you then."

"Oh yeah?" Mickey's tone is challenging, and Ian, sitting on the ground opposite Mickey, pulls him into his lap.

"Didn't do a good job, though, you're still wearing pants."

Laughing and using the wall to pull himself up, Mickey stands. His side is drenched in dried blood, the same shit that flecks over his jaw and cheek still. His jeans are fit to his legs for once instead of being baggy and ripped hand-me-downs. Ian's glorified taxi driving job had perks, one of which included buying his boyfriend some new clothes. It was good that he was making a steady flow, because while Mickey didn't have to hide in Mexico anymore, it'd still be pretty hard to get a solid job while being an escaped convict. His dark tousled hair was short on the sides and pushed back, a few strands falling away and over his eyes.

Ian folded his legs underneath him to sit on his knees, his eyes dripping desire as he looked up at his boyfriend.

"Fuck, babe. You look so.. cool."

Mickey snorts, biting his lip to stop from wincing more. "Cool?"

"Badass. Kickass. All the 'ass'es. You look like you could fuck me up and it's hot."

"Yeah, well, you don't look too bad down there, all horny as hell. You look like a fucking picture in a magazine."

Ian rises slowly and tilts his head down to rest his forehead on Mick's. The air is hot and sticky without one another's breaths intertwining over their lips.

"Stay this time? Please? I love you. Just stay."

"You were the one who left last time," the convict responds slowly, rubbing a hand over Ian's neck. There was no accusation or anger in his tone, it was simply a confused reminder. "At the border?"

"Because it was the  _border_. I couldn't leave, I needed to be here, I needed to let my life continue, not backtrack. But I want it to continue with you in it."

Mickey's eyes flutter softly closed and he exhales. "I promise. I'm staying this time." His eyelids snap open again. "And even if they do get to me, I know how to get out of that fucker. They can't hold me in prison long, not if it means you're not with me."

Ian chuckles and lets himself relax, lets himself lean into the shorter and injured frame that will always seem to be a million times stronger than him. Ian knew the truth, knew how fragile the squared shoulders and broad hips really were, knew how delicate the punk exterior was, but he let them both find comfort in it, if not for at least just this second.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and kudos if you liked it! This was my first Gallavich fic, how'd I do?


End file.
